As he approached, one of the creatures tumbled over the heads of the others and landed with a splash and a roll onto the muddy ground. Like a wild beast, the creature convulsed to its feet and found itself staring squarely at Gash. Its face was soaked and stretched as a man who had been forever walking in a constant, chilled downpour. The hair on its head was curled, but stringy, hanging in loose locks. Its eyes bulged and its face held on it a look of rage. It saw Gash and opened its mouth in a brief, animalistic growl, bearing its long, pointed teeth. It then charged at him, running on all fours. Gash moved in to engage faster than the creature expected, bringing the head of his axe straight into the creature’s gut. Another growl brought his eyes up to see another of the creatures charging at him. Gash hefted his heavy weapon back behind him, throwing his first attacker from his blades. The second creature came almost within striking distance and leapt inhumanly at Gash’s head, maw open and clawed hands grasping. Gash strained his arms and brought his axe back forward, the blade meeting the creature in the air in perfect timing, cleaving it in two and continuing down toward the ground. Gash again flexed his arms and halted the blade’s momentum. Not hesitating for a moment, he then brought the weapon back up into a defensive stance, ready for his next attacker. All of this surprised him and he paused in thought.
He felt the weight of the axe in his hands. It was barely heavy. His mind went back over his immediate actions. He could swing it, like an extension of his body, knowing its weight, its timing, the muscle strain he needed to reverse his own swing and bring it quickly back round to bear. He needed only bear it once to learn these things and he knew them. A revelation hit him as he began to get a sense of all that his rejected kin knew and felt- the mind of an orc. This was why they were so ferocious and feared in battle. This was why they never put down their weapons, considering them their strength, being weak and worthless without them. He began to get a sense of what it was like to be one of them, and he despised it. Yet he could not deny it and he stood, his mind reeling.
Some distant shouting brought him back to his senses. He looked up and noted that another attacker had not come. Instead, the group remained focused on the girl. Even through the rain, Gash could see her actions were slowing and she was growing sloppy. They would soon have her. Gash determined to resolve his confusion over the matter later. Orc or not, he was needed. Shoving his thoughts aside, he was about to charge in when he saw something in his peripheral. He turned and dodged the attack, bringing his axe back around and delivering a fatal blow to his sneak attacker’s spine. His axe cleaved through the creature as through a mass of blubber. Gash recognized it as the first one who had attacked him. Something strange was at work, but Gash had no time to think about it. Realizing his second attacker had not recovered, he turned and charged the group with a ferocious cry.
Instantly, several of the group turned and ran at him, intent on overwhelming the charging half-orc. But Gash was not without his wits. Thinking quickly, he halted and slid to a stop just short of engaging them, swinging his axe in a wide arc. His swing was timed well and he cleaved through three of them, his axe sticking in the fourth and knocking it to the ground subsequently crushing it. Seeing another attack coming from his right, Gash released one hand, turned and caught the wooden object headed for his skull. He now found himself staring down at the girl.
Mara’s eyes went wide. She had seen him in short glimpses while she fought off her attackers, having been trained to be aware of her surroundings even in the midst of an onslaught. When the four had run off and after she had knocked down the last of her attackers, she had charged him, mistaking him for an enemy. She still had not fully seen him, due at first to the creatures blocking her view, and then to the fact that his back was turned. She had swung her staff at him in what should have been a blow to knock him unconscious that was too quick to counter. She had not expected him to be so quick, nor strong, nor fierce-looking.
Understanding her to be neither a threat nor an enemy, Gash slowly moved the end of her staff away from his face and allowed his arm to drop. Mara did nothing but stare at him in response. She remained stunned, no longer by his appearance nor his halting of her attack, but by his lack of aggressive action. Had she had sufficient time to recover and bring herself to address him, she might have done so. However, her opportunity was cut short as Gash jerked his head up to look beyond her, moved his free hand back to the haft of his weapon, and charged past her. Mara turned to watch him and was snapped out of her stunned state by the sight of the remaining five creatures gathering to mob her rescuer.
Gash swung his axe at one of the two creatures that were at the head of the group. His axe head caught it in the side and cleaved through it. But the other had leapt towards him, dodging the cleave. The creature landed with needle-sharp claws digging deep into Gash’s thick hide. Gash grunted at the pain as he reached up with a free hand and grabbed the creature about the neck. More pain ripped through his shoulders as he tore the creature from its hold and threw it to the ground. Simultaneously he brought his axe around and slammed its head into the creature’s small body.
Before he could turn to face the others, he heard a shout and saw the girl fly past him in the direction of the remaining creatures. He turned in time to see another of the creatures leaping towards him. Gash swung a thick arm at the creature, knocking it off its course and sending it tumbling to the ground. He then brought his axe around and sliced the creature in two just as it managed to get to its feet. Gash then turned to see the girl engaged with the remaining two, easily fending them off, but managing to do little else as they continuously recovered and attacked her again. Gash had no trouble dispatching these last two, taking opportunity to hew them in two as the girl knocked them to the ground. Their enemies defeated, the two looked around to see if there were any more. Strangely, the road was now empty. The bodies of those that had fallen were gone and no blood lay on the road. They looked to the last one Gash had hewn and saw its remains melting like ice cast into the midst of a fire. The two stood there, wondering at this strange sight, their breaths heavy in their chests.
The last of the creature melted away and Mara looked at Gash whom she found to be staring back at her.
His skin was a medium shade of green, turning a lighter green at the enormous scar that ran the diagonal of his chest from his left shoulder to his lower, right gut. His face was feral, a scowl upon it as he stared down at her. His black hair was balding and stringy and reached just past his shoulders.
The girl, Gash found, was lithe with a head of fiery red hair pulled back into a tight braid. Her clothing was akin to one who lived in a land of abundant sunshine, much like the Cursed Land from which Gash had escaped. Yet the colors were brighter and more varied; the patterns more elaborate. Bright-green-bordered material of dirt brown sparsely decorated by swirls or stripes of yellow and pink, boots of the same design on her feet, the latter now covered in mud.
Mara continued to stare as her breaths slowed, still not quite sure what to think of this…thing that had saved her. Gash stood wondering why she stared at him so. At last, she turned to fully face him, her staff held upright in the manner of a walking-stick.
“Do you speak common?” she asked in the common tongue.
Gash nodded in response but otherwise did not move. He simply stood there, his body facing ahead of them, his head turned to the side to look at her, staring down at her with emerald eyes through a constant scowl.
“Good,” Mara stated hesitantly, unsure as to his intentions. She could see intelligence in his eyes and knew that he was not a creature of dull wit. Making sure her posture was proper, Mara cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak. Yet no words came.
My, but he is huge.
“Forgive me,” she said finally. “These kinds of things come not easy to me. Ummm....”
She breathed out a frustrated breath and closed her eyes, thinking it would be easier to start if she didn’t have to look at him. The rain began to let up
and was reduced to an annoying patter on her head. That eased her a bit.
“Dugan-to, you have saved my life,” Mara began, once again opening her eyes. “In accordance with the laws of my tribe, I...owe you...a life debt.”
The last five words came out stiffly. Nevertheless, she continued in the less strained tone with which she had begun.
“Therefore, wherever you go, I shall be by your side. My warrior skills are yours. Order me and I shall go. Find yourself in trouble, and I shall rescue you. Should you die by another’s hand, I will avenge you. So it shall be until I may repay my debt…or my life expire which is not likely to happen.”
The words came with much difficulty. Most of them she said while looking away from him. But at last, she had spoken them all and now stood proud before him, a smile on her face, confident that she had honored her tribe well.
Gash, without a word, hiked his axe onto his shoulder, turned his head away, and continued on down the road.
Mara’s expression melted into bewilderment.
Where in Sylrin is he going?
“Du!” she shouted after him, her temper flaring to life as she chased after him.
“Du. Du!” she said, coming up alongside and then moving to stand in front of him. Gash stopped walking and looked down at the lithe teenager.
“I just offered my services as a warrior to you and you just walk away? Who do you think you are that you should brush me off? I will have you know I do not need your help or your companionship. I am a very skilled warrior, the best in my tribe.” –At this her voice cracked- “I could travel these lands alone without any trouble. What is one more rish-kal to me? But you, you think I am so helpless that you can just interfere with my battles and then push my offer aside as if it is nothing? Think again, Brueg!”
Her anger melted into shock as she realized her words and the dishonor they held. Her head bowed, she did not notice the rain intensifying, nor Gash looking up at the sky in annoyance, nor his large form moving past her.
“I…I am sorry,” she muttered in shock. “I have dishonored you, Dugan-to. I-“
She looked up to see Gash was no longer standing there. She looked around and found him squatting beneath a tall pine tree.
Gash was lost in thought. His mind was reviewing the encounter with the creatures and the girl, as well as the strange sensations that still coursed strong through his members. It had not been like when he faced Gurak. Gurak’s defeat had been something he had long sought and long settled in his heart as something he must do. This was something different. His enemy was unknown and the battle was unexpected.
Battle. That’s what it was: sudden, unexpected, and, for one of orcish blood, exhilarating. After it was over, Gash had found that his heart was nearly beating out of control. His muscles all across his body were tense as if they were urging him, almost screaming at him for more. This was the thrill that all his kin felt as they engaged in it morning upon morning and evening upon evening. They lived for it. And it ran just as strongly in his blood as it did in theirs.
But he himself had never been in battle before. He had only watched his kin engage in their endlessly repetitive battles. They never seemed to learn or seek to practice or seek out ways to improve their tactics. They believed the mere act of battling itself would hone their skills. It was savagery, nothing more.
He had seen their strength, their potential, and their many, many flaws. But never had he lifted a blade. Never had he any practice, even unarmed, whether the foe was expected or not. He had only hunted wild game. Perhaps, he thought, his sudden skill had come from both watching his kin and hunting. He had seen so much fighting (and killing), that his mind was saturated with it. And in catching game, he had learned how to control his movements, making him a more efficient and effective hunter. This, he thought, must have been how he was able to fight so effectively. Yet it seemed so flawless, something so far beyond his grasp. His thoughts lingered on this until he saw movement in his peripheral.
He glanced over to see that the girl had walked over to him, an unsure look upon her face. He looked to the sky, waiting for the rain to subside.
Mara slowly squatted down next to him. She was unsure what to say or do. Was he angry with her? Was her pledge still acceptable? She could not bring herself to ask.
She stared at him a moment and then looked to the ground, trying to think of something to say. The tree was offering them some shelter from the rain, but large drops still pattered on their heads. She noticed them running down her face and dripping onto the ground. She wiped her face in annoyance.
“Lousy Big Rain,” she commented.
She looked up to see Gash looking down at her.
“I call this the Big Rain,” she explained, pointing beyond their shelter. “I have spent much time in this land just sitting and observing the rain. It seems to rain much here. These are the drops that are large and are many. That is why I call it the Big Rain. In my home, it hardly rains at all. Mostly, we get the Small Rain. The drops are smaller and less. It is much like this forest compared to the trees there. It is certainly much easier to walk in.”
Mara smiled, feeling a little more light-hearted. Gash merely stared down at her with that constant scowl. Her smile was chased from her face as she looked back out before them. Silently, she chided herself for talking too much.
“Du!” she said, pointing to a hilltop and standing up as best she could beneath the low branches of the tree. “I see a…oh, what do you call them? A house! I see a house atop that hill.”
The rain began to let up and her face brightened again as she turned to Gash.
“Fast,” she said, motioning to him. “Let us go before the Big Rain comes back.”
************
Mara’s hand knocked on the wooden door of the cabin.
“Helo-o-o,” she called. “Does anyone live here?”
At Mara’s question, Gash looked up at the plume of smoke rising from the chimney and then back at the youth. The cabin sat at the very top of one of the many hills that lined the roadway, a moderate distance down the road from where the two had been sitting beneath their shelter. A set of stone stairs ran from the base of the hill, ascending and wrapping around the western face, and ending at the door of the cabin upon which Mara continued to incessantly knock.
“Hello-o-o,” she called again.
Finally, the door opened, and the two viewed a woman at least twice Mara’s age standing in the doorway. The woman wore a simple dress of dark green and brown, the wide cuffs of its sleeves ending at her elbows. A dark-green, knitted shawl was over her shoulders. Her long, wavy, brown hair was amazingly well-kempt and it fell freely over her shawl. A look of restrained impatience was on her face. “Yes, young lady, I can hear you,” she said, “and so can all the rainlures in the forest. Now, what can I do for you?”
As the woman spoke, one hand on the door and the other on her hip, Gash noticed the scar tissue covering her wrists. She glanced up at him only a moment, her expression unchanged, before returning to Mara at the sound of the youth’s voice.
“Greetings to you,” Mara said with a smile. “My friend and I would like to get out of this rain. Have you room to spare?”
The woman’s brow furrowed and her mouth went slightly agape.
“Young lady,” the woman said in her soft, yet firm tone, “have your parents taught you nothing of manners?”
Mara’s smile disappeared.
“Your address was assuming and quite rude. Am I to accept two complete strangers into my home without even knowing their names on the simple notion that they want to ‘get out of the rain?’”
Gash stared at the woman. He admired the boldness and demand for respect with which she spoke. It was different than when Mara had shouted at him on the road. Her voice and words resounded with strength, yet she did not move to attack the young lady or himself. He had never seen such a mix of respect and authority. His eyes moved from the woman to Mara who now had her head slightly dipped in sh
ame.
“Why don’t you try again.” the woman suggested.
“Ummmm...” Mara began softly, “Draigan-sae, my name is-“
“Come, come, speak up. I cannot hear you,” the woman interrupted, gesturing to Mara with one hand and placing the other on her hip. “And stand up straight and look at me. Am I to believe you have committed some great wrong against me? Speak clearly and fully, but respectfully.”
Mara cleared her throat. She didn’t understand the power of persuasion this woman had over her. Had it been anyone else, she would have surely boiled over with rage. But she felt shamed and put in her place by this woman. And for some reason that escaped her, she was completely powerless to deny her commands. Raising her head, she did as the lady bid and stood up straight.
“Draigan-sae,” Mara began again, this time much more strongly, “my name is Mara of Tamboue of the Eastern Tribe of Dira-din. I come from the land of the Expanse across the Great Waters. This is my friend who came to my aid on the road not one hour past.” Mara gestured to Gash who stood behind her and to her left.
The woman of the cabin looked up at Gash expectantly. Mara softly elbowed the half-orc in the gut. Gash looked down at his gut where she had elbowed him. It hadn’t even hurt him and he stared at Mara wondering what her intention had been by the strange action. Seeing the look of confusion on Gash’s face, the lady of the cabin politely prompted him.
“And what is your name, Sir?”
Gash looked back to the woman and just the same as Mara, felt compelled to answer.
Half-Orc Redemption Page 6
